


Green Light

by Catopotato_22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate title: I feed on reader tears and I'm a horrible person, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Crying Dean Winchester, Dead Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Everyone Has Issues, Greaser Dean Winchester, Hate Crimes, Homophobic John Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Teen Angst, The Great Gatsby References, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catopotato_22/pseuds/Catopotato_22
Summary: Castiel is a soc, or a social, from a gang called the Garrison. Strictly upper-middle class. Dean Winchester is a greaser from a lower class family and is in a rival gang, the Hunters. When an act of kindness across social barriers causes Dean to question everything he was brought up to believe, the results are devastating.





	1. Chapter 1

I dropped my head into my book and groaned. "I don't give a damn if this Gatsby's still in love with her, the chick's married! Save us the trouble and end the friggin book." I complained into the pages of an unresponsive novel.

 

"Mr. Winchester, pay attention." My English teacher, Mrs. Bates, reprimanded as the class sniggered.

 

"Slacker," someone whispered from the back of the class. "Typical Winchester."

 

Mrs. Bates turned back to the board, and I tuned out of her lesson. That Gatsby sure didn't know when to quit. I smoothed my greased hair back into place, where it got messed up from my frustrations with the assigned reading. I let my mind wander, and it drifted to the movie playing tonight at the drive-in. I'd probably have to bring along Sam, who'd be a bit of a drag, but Dad would have my hide if I left him at home. The bell rang shrilly, interrupting my thoughts. I moved to my next class, but my mind was stuck on Dad now. My old man's been on a mean streak pretty much since Mom died. I still remember when mom was alive, and Dad wasn't the way he is now, but Sammy was too young before all that ended. I sure wish he could've known what Dad was like before the fire. I absentmindedly pushed past a group talking in the hallway, bumping into one of them as I shouldered through.

 

"Hey, grease!" My blood went cold as I realized who I had bumped. "Watch where you're goin' spaz."

 

I regained my composure and turned to face the cluster of socs. "You guys gonna say anything worthwhile or am I just wasting my time here? I've got things to do."

 

"Like what, Winchester?" Micheal, a blond, scowling boy who led the rival gang called the Garrison, said.

 

"Like your mother, Novak."

 

"Aw, beat it, space cadet!" a freshman, nicknamed Alfie, yelled. "You're cruisin' for a bruisin'." Alfie got his nickname from when he came to school in a Wiener Hut uniform with the name tag that said, Alfie. This wasn't his real name, but it stuck.

 

I swaggered away, hiding a slight fear of the promised bruising. Nothing I couldn't handle, and nothing I hadn't handled before.

 

After school, I walked over to Sammy's school, across the street from mine, where we met to walk home.

 

"Hey Sammy, you gotta walk home on your own today, I need to study after school. Stay outta trouble, kiddo." I warned.

 

If I was getting jumped by a bunch of socs, I wouldn't want Sammy getting mixed up in that. I headed to the library to struggle through the damn book.

 

\---

 

After a half hour of struggling through the reading, I threw my book down and put my head on the table. The cool wood was soothing, and I relaxed for a moment.

 

"Are you having trouble with the reading?" I sat up suddenly, startled by the new arrival.

 

"Wha- I, uh, yeah." I scratched the back of my neck as I stumbled through my words. "I- This book is just, difficult to understand, I guess."

 

I brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face, only to have it fall back again. I looked up from the book and saw a pair of true-blue eyes staring back, framed by a square jawline and tousled, soft, feathery brown hair.

 

"Do you need my help with understanding the book?" he fingered the leather strap on his bag, almost nervously.

 

"Yeah," I said shortly and gestured to the chair beside me.

 

Did I say it too quickly? Does he think I'm rude? Of course he does, I'm a greaser, and he's probably some soc. Oh god, he hates me already. Hoo-boy.

 

"I'm Castiel Novak," he said, extending a hand for me to shake. He must be Michael's brother, which means he's a soc, and he definitely hates me.

 

I took his hand. "Dean. Dean Winchester."

 

"So Dean," he took a seat. "what part do you need help with?" He pulled out his own copy and started to flip through it.

 

"Finding the symbolism of the green light thingy."

 

"Well, it symbolizes a lot of things. It symbolizes Gatsby's desire for money, the American dream, and love. Some people say it symbolizes Daisy, but I find it more poetic to just say love since a single person can mean love to somebody."

 

I nodded along, hanging on to every word he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hunters go see a movie at the drive-in

Later that evening, Sam and I waited for on the porch for our ride to the drive-in.

 

"Dean-o! hop in!" Gabriel Novak shouted from the beat-up station wagon. Not all Novaks were dicks, like Gabe and Cas, but I didn't trust Michael, and their brother, Luke, jumped Sam a while back and beat him up pretty bad. Gabe wasn't in a gang, though we treated him almost like a part of ours, the Hunters.

 

"Boss machine, Gabriel," I said sarcastically as I patted his parent's station wagon.

 

"Drop dead twice, Dean-o" he quipped, a lollipop stick hanging from his mouth like a cigarette.

 

"What, and look like you?" I piled in the back with Kevin Tran and Charlie Bradbury. Sam slid in next to me, and Charlie put her feet up on the next row of seats.

 

"No feet on the seats, dig it?" Gabriel turned around like a mom reprimanding unruly children in the car.

 

"Yeah, we dig." The car chorused, and Charlie put her feet on the floor again.

 

"Punch it, we've got a flick to see!" I shouted as Gabriel started the car.

 

\---

 

We pulled over other the side of the road and grabbed a couple of blankets.

 

"Kevin, you're small, so you and Samsquatch get to be our secret passengers." Gabriel passed them back.

 

"We're sneaking in?" Sam questioned.

 

"Yahtzee. Saves money." I said.

 

"Why am I going on the floor? I'm a bit tall for that."

 

"You're also a bit young for this movie."

 

"What movie are we watching?"

 

"Rebel Without a Cause. Jeez, you writing a book or something?"

 

When we had smuggled in our extra viewers, we filed out of the car and took seats near Jo and Garth. I went to the concession stand to bring snacks for everyone else.

 

I was carrying back three tubs of popcorn and two cokes when I nearly dropped all of them at the sight of Cas and the socs. I scurried past, hiding my face behind a bucket of popcorn. I handed them out to the hunters. The movie started to play and the chatter slightly lowered. Garth threw popcorn at Charlie and she playfully smacked him. Sometimes the hunters acted like kids.

 

All of a sudden, one of the Garrison came up to Charlie. It was Alfie.

 

"Hey Charlie, you uh, doin' anything after this? Up for some backseat bingo?"

 

"Oh, get bent, Alfie." She socked him in the arm.

 

He slunk away, rubbing his arm. The girls in the gang were less like girls we dated, and more like sisters. Jo was tough and Charlie was independent and, as she put it "flamingly liberal." Which lead to a lot of talk about the girls liking girls. They didn't really mind the talk, but we made sure they didn't talk shit about them.

 

"Hey Benny, if someone here were, y'know, queer, would you be okay still being in the gang with 'em and all?" I whispered.

 

"Where'd that question come from? You writin' a book?" He laughed. "Well, sure I guess, it don't change my life that much. But, are you trying to say somethin'?"

 

"I'm not sayin' anything," I said shortly.

 

Garth stepped over the back of the chairs noisily and plopped into the seat on the other side of me. "What's buzzin' cuzzin'?"

 

"Cut the gas, greasers!" Someone yelled, which I recognized as Luke Novak, who has a more unfortunate name than Alfie's nickname. The Novak's are very religious, and when their Dad, Chuck, was still at home, he named his kids after angels. Gabriel and Michael got normal names, Cas had a more obscure name, but Lucifer, or Luke, had it bad. He sure gave teachers one hell of a scare on the roll list the first day.

 

The credits rolled on the movie and we piled back into the station wagon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realizes he 's crushing on Cas and John Winchester is a dickbag. What a surprise.

I kept coming back to the library for Castiel's help, day after day for the next few weeks. Every day I left the library feeling light and happy like I was flying home. I hadn't felt this good in a long time. Maybe it was the feeling of finally understanding a book or having someone not judge you when you didn't get a something. Yes, it was that, but something different, too.

 

I kicked a rock down the sidewalk, lost in my own thoughts. We always stayed at the library until they kicked us out, then I'd say goodbye to Cas. I called him that now. I don't think he's ever had a nickname before. He's pretty different, and I like that about him. He's got something about him, that I just can't put a finger on.

 

Just like that feeling of being so happy your heart jumps out of your chest, like a cartoon. I stopped for a minute and dug my hands into my pockets. What was it? It's like feeling a little sick, a little warm and a lot nervous, but you like it all. A tug in your gut that says 'He's different. This one's special'. A little skip in your heart that makes you jump a bit. A little feeling called love. Love.

 

Oh god. Oh my god! Dean friggin Winchester, what the hell was that?! Nonono. No. That's not it. That's how everyone feels. No, it isn't! Son of a bitch, I'm not- no, no way in hell. Okay, so I've got a crush, big deal. Except it's on a soc. Not only that but on a soc guy! And god, what a dreamboat. Shit! I can't be- I can't even say it. I mean, I felt like this when I asked out Lisa, but I feel like that with Cas. But I guess I can like both. That's okay, right?

 

I walked down the street for a while, stressing over that, but eventually daydreaming about Cas. Then I paused across the street from my house. My Dad's black Impala was parked outside, which meant Dad was home early. And I was supposed to watch Sammy. Son of a bitch.

 

"Hey baby," I whispered to the car as a sign of respect towards the nicest thing we owned. Then I crept up to the door, awaiting the shitstorm I had coming.

 

I felt sweat forming on my palms as I touched the door handle. I paused for a moment to collect myself. I felt a similar feeling to what I felt with Cas, but it was all dread and guilt, and I hated it. Whatever punishment I got I deserved. I let down Dad, I let down Sammy, and for what? a boy? A stupid-smart pretty boy with blue eyes and a safe, upper-middle-class home to go to? A boy I shouldn't even like in the first place! I deserve every last bruise and scratch. I opened the door and stepped inside. I flinched as Sam ran at me and hugged me tightly.

 

"Dean! Oh I was so worried, you stayed and studied longer than usual and Dad came home early and I was worried a soc jumped you and you were dead or something awful happened!" He blabbered at lightning speed.

 

"Hey, Sammy. I'm okay. I was just doin' some schoolwork. No soc could ever get me down. though I'd leave 'em with a couple black and blue marks." I playfully punched him in the arm.

 

He laughed, then turned solemn and whispered, "Dad's really mad."

 

I felt that bad feeling in my stomach again and walked into the kitchen.

 

"Hey Dad," I said guiltily.

 

"Dean, you were supposed to watch your brother. It’s your responsibility to-"

 

"I'm sorry, I-"

 

"Don't interrupt me! You're the oldest child, and it's your responsibility to watch over your younger brother."

 

"I know-"

 

"You know? Then why was Sam all alone when I got home? It's like you don't even think!"

 

"Dad I was-"

 

"I don't care what you were doing. You need to be more responsible! You've gotta start using your head."

 

"Yessir," I looked at the floor.

 

"Look at me when you're talking. Stand up straight. I'll treat you like a man when you start acting like one."

 

"You never treat me like anything more than a pile of shit," I mumbled, instantly regretting it.

 

I felt a stinging slap across my face, tears welling to my eyes. "Young man, I will not tolerate that kind of disrespect under my roof. I clothe you and feed you, and for what? No 'Thank you's, no respect, all I get is backtalk."

 

I touched my face and shook off the pain. Winchester men don't cry. What kinda fuckin' man am I? Hardly 16 and crushing on another guy. I'm no man. I crumpled to the floor and felt a kick to my side.

 

"You disrespectful, freeloading piece of shit! Get up! Face me like a real man! You're a sad excuse for a Winchester!" He grabbed the back of my jacket and pulled me to my feet, throwing me into a cabinet. I slid down the cupboard door and fell onto my hands and knees.

 

Shouts, whispers, and giggles of names I've been called swirled around my head, jumbled and distorted by the pain in my stomach. I felt like puking.

 

Slacker. "Get up-"

 

Spaz. "-and face me-"

 

Freeloader. "-like a man!"

 

Grease. "I said get up!"

 

"STOP IT! Dad, stop!" Sam's distressed, barely teenaged voice rung out over the abuses being shouted in and out of my head.

 

"You've got no part in this, Sam. Go to bed." My father's voice had the ability to sound so soothing, but I could tell it only hid the hatred and fury it kept for me.

 

I hated that Sammy saw me like this. I pressed my arms on my stomach and my head on the linoleum floor as I waited for more pain.

 

"Please, just leave him alone." I could hardly hear him when he dropped his voice just above a whisper.

 

I heard heavy footsteps out of the kitchen, and when they had gone, I looked up and hugged Sam. He slept in my bed that night and didn't let go until he woke up the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean draws a picture. but symbolismmmmm  
> also the moment you've been waiting for...

A raised red area stood out on my right cheek when I looked in the mirror that morning.  I could cover the bruises on my chest and back, but my face was hard to hide. I could just keep my head down until school ends, and hope a teacher doesn't notice. Shitty plan, but it's worth a shot.

 

I got to English, and that day, I was actually excited. I understood the book, and I shared that class with Cas. The downsides were the fact that he sat across the room from me, and the class was boring as hell.  I started sketching into the margins of my paper, letting my pencil run loose, with a mind of its own. After a few minutes, I found myself staring at a drawing of a face. It was Cas. I smiled back at the paper. suddenly it was snatched from my hands.

 

"Who're you drawin' Winchester?" Michael sneered from beside me. "You're smiling so much, someone oughta think you're gettin' married to her."

 

"Give it back."

 

"Let's find out who the lucky lady is. I'm sure she'd love to find out about this." He waved the paper just out of reach.

 

Lucky lady? Not this time, soc.

 

"It's not a crush, back off," I lied.

 

"Sure it's not." He looked at my drawing. "My brother? Guess it wasn't." He tossed the paper back at me.

 

"Mr. Winchester, were you listening?" I looked up and put my doodle underneath my notebook.

 

"Yes, ma'am." I lied again.

 

"So what is the symbolism of the green light?"

 

"Well, the author used symbolism with the green light to, uh, show what Gatsby wants, but can never quite get. For example, he can't have love, because his meaning of love, is Daisy, and she can't fully love him back. 'Cause of Tom and all that."

 

"Good enough. Class, turn to the page written on the board..." I shot a glance at Cas, but he didn't see me. I sighed and pulled out the drawing. I crumpled it up and shoved it into my bag. He's your green light. You can never have him, no matter how much you want him. So forget it, and maybe you won't end up like Gatsby. Sad and lonely, only you're not rich.

 

\---

 

I avoided Cas and the other socs all throughout the day. At the end of the day, I started towards Sam's school, but Cas was standing outside the library and caught my eye. He ran over and I ducked my head.

 

"Hello, Dean. You did well in English today. So I guess you won't want me around to help study anymore." He said with a note of sadness.

 

I looked up quickly and touched his shoulder. "Wait, Cas, no I uh-"

 

"I understand, Dean. People like you and I, we're from different groups. We just don't mix, and that's the way of things."

 

"No Cas, I really like you, I do, I just gotta be at home to watch my brother." It still sounded like a rejection! "I um, still need help. With the other symbols in the book. Like the eyes!" Stop trying to fool yourself, you can't be with him, he's your green light. "We could go over that at my place. If you want, I guess."

 

"I would enjoy that, Dean." He said with a sunny smile.

 

\---

 

"The eyes of Doctor T.J. Eckleburg represent the eyes of God looking down on the American wasteland of society. That wasteland is the valley of ashes. The valley shows the moral and social decline of society when people like the Buchanan's or Gatsby pursue wealth without thinking of the consequences." He explained while we sat at my kitchen table, carefully positioned by me so he was constantly on my left side, and wouldn't see the mark.

 

"Heavy stuff," I whistled.

 

"It is a heavy burden to bear the truth." He said wisely.

 

"Yikes."

 

I turned to my left and began to pull out some paper when I felt a finger brush where the red mark was.

 

"Dean was that one of-" I brushed away his hand. He's your green light, don't bother.

 

"It wasn't a soc if that's what you're asking," I said harshly.

 

"Then who-"

 

"Please just don't. I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna think about it, all I wanna do is be with you." I turned to face him and saw his expression change from hurt to something new. He leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. For a second, I was putty in his hands, and I leaned forward too. but then I caught myself and pulled back. You can't be with him, Cas is your unattainable green light. His face went to an even more hurt expression.

 

"I-I'm sorry Dean, I shouldn't do that, uh, I don't know what I was-"

 

the rest of his sentence was lost when I pulled him into a kiss. Screw the green lights.

 

His eyes were fluttering wide, and then he kissed me back, and I just melted. I ran my fingers through his soft brown hair and tasted honey on his soft lips. I pulled him onto my lap and he wrapped his arms around the back of my neck. He smelled sweet and made a little noise when I sucked at his bottom lip. I worked my hands up to his back and untucked his shirt, running my fingers along his skin. It was soft and smooth and I took it all in with every sense. It was heavenly, divine and sugary, and I loved every minute.

 

He moaned contentedly and I started to unbutton his shirt a little and leaving marks on his neck and just below his collarbone. He started to pull up my shirt a little, but I touched his hand to stop him.

 

"Just- I don't feel like talking about it." I lifted his chin to give him a soft kiss. "Just be with me. 'Kay?"

 

He planted a little peck on my nose. "M'kay."

 

I kissed his sweet lips and slipped in a little tongue, making him moan quietly. I put my hands on his waist and leaned in a little. He cupped my face in his hands and tilted his head, leaning in, intensely, moving in a sort of rhythm, a rhapsody in almost every sense of the word. A euphoric, epic, poetic symphony. He was one hell of a kisser.

 

Suddenly, the front door swung open, and my father staggered into the kitchen, slightly drunk. He dropped a bottle on the floor with a shatter, and the sweet honey smell was overpowered by the stench of cheap beer.

 

I quickly detached from Cas and pushed him away guiltily. "Cas, pack up your stuff," I said softly. "Just leave. Please."

 

He hastily gathered his pencils and book and started to shove them into his bag.

 

"Get him out of here. Now." My Dad's voice was flat and brittle as he tensed his jaw.

 

I handed Cas his sweater and wordlessly ushered him out of the house. He didn't even have time to button his shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet is good right? well that doesn't matter because its short and bitter. i'm so sorry.

When Cas had left, Sam wandered into the living room and looked into the kitchen to see me and Dad in a sort of silent argument, neither daring to say something first. Like the calm before the storm, we were two clouds, wordlessly daring the other to start the tempest.

 

"What's going on?" he broke the silence with the childlike curiosity I wish he used elsewhere.

 

"This isn't your business, Sam. Go to your room." he scurried off, but I knew he was still listening. "As for you, Dean..." I looked down at my bedraggled clothes in shame. I had broken his trust twice now. And with a boy. Another boy. The same boy. Son of a bitch, I was gonna get it. "I told you, again and again, not to break my trust, not to leave Sam alone, not to- not to be doing this!" He gestured with disgust.

 

"But dad-"

 

"No buts. You're a disgrace. A blemish to our family name. Just look at yourself. Your hair, your clothes, what you do- you're lucky I even give you a pot to piss in! Imagine- if your mother could see you-"

 

"DON'T BRING HER INTO THIS!" I shouted, tears welling in my eyes. "DON'T YOU DARE, YOU BASTARD!"

 

He picked up a jar and hurled it at my head, and it shattered on the wall to my right. "DON'T TALK BACK AT ME, BOY! You- you're not even a boy, you filthy animal!"

 

I picked up a plate and threw it at his feet. "FUCK YOU AND FUCK THIS HOUSE! FUCK YOUR RULES! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" I screamed.

 

He threw pots from the sink in my direction, bruising my arms and clattering on the walls.

 

I picked up a bowl and threw it at the wall. "Take my food-"

 

Another plate- "Take my clothes-"

 

A glass jar- "Take my damn pot to piss in!”

 

I hurled a large dish at the cabinet and watched it shatter, with a chaotic mix of sadness, anger and relief, "I DON'T CARE! I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"

 

I faced my fuming father with defiance, my feet scraping shards of glass and porcelain, and a little blood around the linoleum. "For once in my life," My voice was low, trembling with tears. "I'm happy. Dad, I'm happy with Cas. Do you know how often that happened in the last 14 years? Not a damn second with you. This is the happiest I've been since Mom died."

 

His face was purplish red with anger an a vein popped from his temple.

 

"You... You're disgusting. I will not have a- a- a _thing,_ ” He gestured to me like I was some stain to clean, or a strange bug to squash. “Like you, live under my roof."

 

"Say it, dad. Say it to my face. To you, I'm just a freak, a creature who lurks in bars and alleys, a defect of society. I'm not. I'm a human, a brother, a friend, your son. I always have been and always will be. " My heart raced. "So why should that change because I'm bisexual?"

 

"You're broken! You're wrong in the head, and you're gonna straighten out or I won't have you under this roof."

 

"Dad I'm not broken-"

 

He smacked me across the face with a backhand that sent me stumbling back into the table."Dean, you're broken! Boys doing that- It's unnatural! It's wrong!" He said in a taut voice, hardly trying to hide his disdain for me.

 

I wiped away the sticky and warm blood trickling from my nose. A messy streak of red striped my face like war paint. I got up, ignoring the pain that seemed to come from inside and pierced from the outside.

 

He shoved me back down to the floor, and I shouted as my head hit the table, then it went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nurse cas to the rescue

"Dean? Dean are you alright?" A familiar voice soothed my anxieties.

"Cas?" I slurred, my voice was thick and croaky.

"Yes, it's me. Your brother's here too. He brought you here after your father went out."

"Oh hiya, Sammy..." I drawled. "What happened? Oh god, is he still here? Cas you gotta get out and take Sammy and-" Cas put a hand on my shoulder, noticing my panic.

"Your father's not here. We're at my house." I looked around, noticing I was sitting on a flower print couch in a typical suburban living room with lace curtains, a brick fireplace, and a china cabinet, as opposed to the Winchester household furnishings of sagging couches, stained pillows, and secondhand chairs, accented with empty beer cans and full ashtrays.

"Cas, I'm fine. I've just gotta get Sam home, and we'll be okay."

"No, you're not fine, you need to recover, you and Sam can stay here, I've got this covered." He lifted my head to put an ice pack where I hit my head on the table.

"Cas I don't need to be babied, I'm fine!" I protested, only to be tucked in on the couch.

"Humor me, please." He said dryly as he smoothed the blanket out.

I huffed and crossed my arms, but truthfully, I hadn't been treated like this in a long time, and I didn't really mind.

"Sam's sleeping in my room, and I'm going to stay out here."

"Nurse Cas is taking the night shift too?"

-

I stared at the Novak's living room ceiling for what felt like hours, waiting for sleep. Suddenly I heard a whimpering from where Cas was curled up, in an armchair facing the couch.

"Stop... Stop it, don't hurt him please..." He mumbled fitfully.

I sat up and limped over, trying not to put pressure on the bandages covering cuts on my feet and hands.

"Cas, you okay?" I whispered, gently shaking his shoulder.

He mumbled and clung to the baggy shirt he lent me. I scooted under him so his head was resting on my chest.

"It's okay Cas, you're okay." I hugged him closer and he sniffled into the shirt.

I felt his chest rising and falling as he breathed, and when it slowed to a restful pace, I kissed the top of his head and fell asleep peacefully.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> abandon hope all ye who enter here.

Car lights splashed over the wallpaper through the thin curtains.

 

"Cas- Cas wake up. Cas your family-"

 

He groaned and turned over, nuzzling into my chest.

 

"That's real nice Cas, but not right now." I tried to pull him off, but he flopped onto my stomach, making me grunt. "Cas, you clingy son of a bitch."

 

I picked him up by the armpits and shook him a bit until he woke up

 

"Wha- oh Dean, g'mornin'. Or night." he sleepily sat up

 

Keys jingled in the lock.

 

"Cas, your family."

 

"Family? Wh- SHIT." He instantly became alert and scrambled out of the armchair.

 

I pulled myself up on my bandaged feet and stood by the armchair while Cas made a frantic attempt to clean up my hair.

 

"What are you-"

 

"The grease! If they know you're a greaser, they'll kick you out."

 

At that moment, the lock turned and a group of teenagers stepped into the house.

 

"Castiel, who's this?" One spoke out.

 

"This is Dean Winchester." He suddenly seemed very small and scared in the presence of his family.

 

"Dean Winchester, that greaser?" Another asked.

 

"Brother, I don't know what to say. Hanging out with a greaser is risky, but bringing him home? You're just asking for it." Michael sneered. "Especially a Winchester."

 

Cas flinched, and I grabbed his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

 

"Oh! I think it's more than just hanging out and bringing him home, is it, brother?" Michael cackled "You're really in for it now."

 

A brunette girl, Naomi stepped forward. "I always said you were born with a crack in your chassis, Castiel. You need to be fixed. Dean Winchester is your problem. You love him too much." She examined the rings on her fingers, clenching and unclenching her fists.

 

Noticing the malice in her voice, knowing how things can get dangerous quickly, I turned over the coffee table and shattered the modern glass top, then dragged Cas to his room.

 

"Sam, wake up, we gotta go!" I shook my little brother and practically shoved him out the window. We jumped out and ran into the night. I started running back to my house, forgetting my cut feet, but Cas ran the other way.

 

"You're safer without me!" He shouted.

 

There was no time to argue with him, so I kept running with Sam in tow. We got to our house, and waited in anticipation, for Cas, the socs, or even Dad. I was putting shoes on over my bandages when the phone rang.

 

"Hello, Dean," Cas said on the other end of the line.

 

"Cas! What happened?"

 

"I lost them."

 

"That’s boss, let's meet at the park on the corner of Maple Street and 3rd." I didn't want to wait around any longer for anybody to show up, so I tied my shoes and left with Sam.

 

We sprinted down the road until we intersected with Grand Street, then rounded the corner to the park.

 

I saw Cas standing in the streetlight haze, in a baggy shirt and jeans.

 

"Cas!" I shouted with relief since he looked unharmed and alive.

 

"Dean! Sam!" He yelled back. "I escaped them."

 

Suddenly, a shadow behind him moved, and Michael stepped out, switchblade in hand.

 

"Cas!" I shouted again, this time in fear. I ran, feet slapping pavement, heart pounding too fast.

 

I didn't make it in time. A flash of silver winked at me maliciously in the streetlight and Cas crumpled.

 

"CAS!" I screamed my last steps towards him faltering. "NO!" I screamed. I caught him falling and I sank to my knees. I hugged him tightly, staining my shirt. "Oh Cas, baby no, don't die, don't die, don't you dare, nononononono Cas honey, it's okay Cas, you're okay. Please be okay, stay with me please, Cas. CAS! NO!" Salty, bitter tears streamed down my face and I let out a scream from deep in my stomach as if I needed people to hear the pain I felt.

 

I grabbed at his shirt, now darkening with a stain of crimson death.

 

"Cas wake up, Cas please wake up, Cas this is my fault, this is all my fault, if I didn't break those plates I wouldn't have been at your house and you'd still be-" I let out a sob. "If I had said somewhere else to meet if I had never invited you over if I hadn't been so bad in English class if only I knew. Then I could have told you. Cas you're my green light at the dock. I want you back, so bad, and there's nothing I can do the get you back. It's so fucking poetic, you said, how one person can mean love to somebody. You mean love to me, Cas." I looked at his face, his true-blue eyes gazing at the stars. I brushed my hand on his face, still warm, but lifeless. I understand why Gatsby wouldn't give up on his green light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the best, aren't i?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't blame you for hating me. I wrote this, and now I hate me.

I looked up through the tears and faced Michael.

 

I had so many words left for Cas, though he couldn't hear them, but so little for Michael.

 

"Why?" I looked at him, still holding Cas' body.

 

"He was broken. We have to fix the problem or remove the broken part entirely." He stared down at his brother's body with a cold look of indifference and almost disgust.

 

"You are a monster. He was never broken, he was his own perfect part of our own new machine. And we worked perfectly." I cried as a red and blue light washed over the street, filling the night with sirens and wails.

 

\---

 

I looked in the mirror and straightened my black tie. I put on a worn, thin sport-coat and ran a comb through my hair. I grabbed the bouquet I had saved up for and headed to the living room.

 

"Ready Dean?" Sam said, dressed as formally as I was.

 

"Yeah. Ready as I'll ever be."

 

We stepped out of the house and walked down the street. We walked in solemn silence for a long period of time, not wanting to break the quiet. We turned onto Main Street and I ducked my head. A group of girls walking by suddenly dropped their chatter to a low whisper.

 

"That's that Winchester boy." One pointed, trying to be discreet.

 

They scurried away quickly, saddle shoes clicking on the pavement, the poodle embroidery on the hems of their skirts flapping as they walked faster.

 

A guy in a madras shirt strolling down the street bumped my shoulder and pulled away when he turned and saw me like I was contagious. "Watch where you're going, freak."

 

I ground my teeth and kept on walking. We rounded the corner in silence and came upon a grassy, neat park.

 

We walked up the sidewalk and opened the wrought-iron gate. We searched the grassy hills for a minute until we found the right grave.

 

I kneeled down next to the fresh dirt patch.

 

"Hey, Cas."

 

I set the flowers beside the headstone that read, "Castiel Novak, July 10th, 1940 - May 13th, 1957" it also read, scribbled over that in red paint, "FAG" and "BURN IN HELL, QUEER"

 

I brushed away some cigarette butts on his grave and set down the bouquet.

 

Michael was arrested after that night and was now doing 9 years.  The courts believed his accident story, and gave him the minimum sentence. But the whole town knew what really happened and nobody did anything. Not even Dad. He hardly looked at me, an when he did, there was just hate in his eyes.

 

Hate was all I got. The Novaks had "politely" asked if I would refrain from coming to the funeral. And if I came, they'd "politely" ask for the police to come and give me a "nice and friendly" ride to the station. So we held our own little funeral a bit later.

 

"Cas I'm sorry they did this to you." I wiped at the paint, smearing it on the tissue I brought. I shoved the red-stained paper into my pocket. "That's a bit better, huh? Sorry, we're giving you such a shabby funeral, it's just that we're not exactly the class vote for 'best couple' or anything."

 

I sat down next to his grave, careful not to sit over his body. It just didn't feel right to walk over him. Something about the fact that his body was really under there. It was really six feet underground, but it felt like much less. I pulled out a battered copy of The Great Gatsby and a crumpled piece of paper. "It came to me the other day that you never got to finish the book. So here we go..."

 

-

 

"..Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—

       So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

I closed the book quietly and set it by the flowers. It's pages fluttered in the wind, as if his ghost was sitting with us, still helping me find the meaning of a metaphor or some symbolism. The creased pages were now tearstained and dirty. It had grown dark, and the wind swirled dry leaves around the park. I saw Sam shiver in his thin jacket and offered him mine, which he declined.

We started to get up, but before we left, I unfolded the paper and stuck it in the back of the book. From the margins of the paper filled with notes, stared the sketch of a smiling Cas, innocent and naive.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because we're fanfic writers and life is a fucking nightmare  
> Or: the greasers and socs have an illegal drag race (not RuPaul's. With cars.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, It can get worse!  
> you are all gonna hate me so much

At school, I'd move through classes in a daze. Afterward, I would go to the library out of habit, and just sit. I didn't feel like reading, because what's the point? I wouldn't understand it anyway. I just would put my head on the table for a while and pretend like I had fallen asleep a month ago, and this was all some horrible dream. Then the librarian would wake me up with a stern look and I'd run home and Sammy and I could live like we used to. I'd wake up and wonder where I could think up such a terrible and strange dream. But I would lift my head, and it would still be May, Cas would still be dead, and I'd just want to cry like a friggin baby.

 

I but I'd get up and go home to face the fact that I lived in my own worst nightmare.

 

I hung with the hunters, and we fixed cars together, but it wasn't the same. A depressed gloom hung around the shop, and Gabriel had just stopped coming altogether. Benny seems like I betrayed him because I didn't tell him earlier. Sam hardly talks, and it occurred to me that this is the only time he's ever seen someone die. He doesn't remember Mom at all. Kevin still visits the shop, but less often. He and Charlie don't ever bicker like they used to, and Garth seems so much less lively, and Jo seems tired all the time. We've all been weighed down by Cas' death. The hunters were falling apart.

 

So we decided to have a drag race against the socs, to see if that brings us back together a bit. We fixed up an old car, painting it black with flames on the back.

 

On the day of the race, we gathered under the highway in a flat area we use for races. The Garrison stood in one group, and the Hunters in another. Benny was supposed to drive, but his parents caught him sneaking out for the race, and he got grounded.

 

“Well shit, what do we do?” Jo put her hands on her hips and frowned.

 

“Somebody’s gotta race for him.” Kevin sighed.

 

Sam’s face lit up. “Can I?” he pleaded. “I know what to do, it’s good practice for getting your driver's license, and we do need a driver. Please?”

 

“No, Sam you’ve never done this before, you’re fourteen, you haven’t gotten a license. I can drive.” I worried.

 

“I’ve driven before, I just want to do this one race.” he gave me puppy eyes.

 

“One race can’t hurt.” He grinned and bounced up to the car. “Be safe, don’t make me regret this,” I called after him.

 

When the cars were ready, Jo ran out into the track, bandanas in hand.

 

She lifted them up into the air, hesitated, and brought them down with a swish, as the cars sped past. Sammy would have to goose it to keep up with Luke's bent eight, but he could make it.

 

We cheered for Sam as loud as we could, while the Garrison cheered for Luke.

 

Sam was going faster than Luke, swerving around corners pulling ahead for the beginning, but then Luke hit Sam’s bumper, denting the new metal and scratching the paint. Sam accelerated forwards so quickly, he was on two wheels for a second. He hit the ground, making the car bounce and the trunk and hood flap with the impact. Luke started to pass Sam and edged him further off the track. Soon, Sammy's car was completely on the slanted wall of the track. He and Luke drove side by side, tilting towards the lower part of the track. He tried to turn back into the flat track but hit Luke's car. The two cars made a horrible screeching sound as Sam pushed back to the road. He pulled out ahead, making a sharp turn, and spun out of control.

 

"Oh god," I whispered.

 

Sam scrambled to regain control of the car, and I shut my eyes as I heard a loud scraping and screeching. I opened them just as Sam lost control for good, and the car slammed into the concrete pillar supporting the highway.

 

Someone screamed. It could have been me, the crowds, or Sam, or the car itself. The car was mangled, and the windshield shattered. I ran out to the car, but someone grabbed my arm. Fighting and struggling in a blind haze,  I pushed them off and ran across the track. I got to the wreck and pulled open the mangled door. Sam was slouched over the steering wheel, with glass shards stuck in his arm and a gash on his head. I pulled him out of the car, he was limp as a rag doll and I prayed to anyone listening that he wasn't dead.

 

"He's only fourteen, dear god, he can't be dead! Don't be dead Sammy, I can't lose you too." I dragged him back, Jo and Benny met me halfway across the track and carried him away.

 

"Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god what do I do, he's dying, he's gonna die, I can't lose another one, I can't, I can't!" I sobbed

 

I felt pitying looks all around me. I lost Cas, I lost Sam, and they all give you that look. I sat down on the side of the track and put my head between my knees. He'll be fine, he'll be okay, if I just keep telling myself that he'll be okay, he'll be-

 

"Someone get a doctor!"

 

-okay, he'll be oka-

 

"Quickly!"

 

-y, he'll be dead and-

 

"He lost a-"

 

-it's your fault-

 

"lot of blood."

 

-it's always your fault-

 

"An ambulance is on its way"

 

-Cas is dead because of you-

 

"They'd better hurry."

 

-Mom too-

 

"Will he make it?"

 

-now it's Sam. This-

 

"It's not looking good."

 

-is all-

 

“Check his pulse!"

 

-your fault.

 

"He's dead."

 

"CHECK IT AGAIN!" I stood up, suddenly.

 

Charlie kneeled by my brother, fingers on his limp wrist. "Dean... he's gone."

 

"No- you're wrong. He's not dead, he can't be, check his pulse again!"

 

"He's de-"

 

"Just check it! Please!" I cried.

 

“He’s gone, Dean”

 

"That's not true! It's not! It can't be!"

 

"Dean, he really is."

 

"Charlie, just check his fucking pulse again!" I screamed at her.

 

She put two fingers on the side of his neck. "Feel it." She said softly.

 

I tentatively touched his neck. No beating in his veins, no steady thumping, no pulse, no brother.

 

"No-" my voice faltered.

 

"Sam's dead." She whispered.

 

My head was spinning and it hurt like hell. My mind was blank, and there was just an ache in my chest that wouldn't go away. I lost Cas, Sam and Mom. And nobody gave a shit about Cas, Sam was just a cautionary tale now, Mom was just an excuse for Dad to tell me he's disappointed in my life.

 

I felt a shiver throughout my body and stepped away from Sam. This was too much.

 

The sirens blared, but they couldn't help Sam. Lights were flashing everywhere, like when the police car pulled up after Cas was dead. They were too late to save him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i take the fun out of funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't remember the name of those mini hotdog things, but just think 50's food. green jello and spray cheese, but slightly nicer.

I put on the same suit I wore to Cas' funeral with Sam. Since it wasn't only greasers in the race where Sam died, everyone got off with a little slap on the wrist and a fine. Dad beat me senseless, and I deserved it. I let him down and I got Sammy killed.

 

Rubbed away tears and went downstairs.

 

"Let's go." My dad barely looked at me when he left the house. I don't blame him. I'm a disappointment and I got Sammy and Cas killed, and probably Mom too.

 

We sat in the car in total silence, the early June air was thick with it. He drove to the cemetery, the same one where Cas is buried, and now Sam.

 

We opened the gates and stood around the plot. The Novak's came, or what was left of them, Luke, Gabriel, and their Mother.  Charlie came, and Jo and her mom, the rest of the Hunters, as well as families from the Garrison. We watched the coffin get lowered into the ground, and covered with fresh dirt like Cas had been when Sam and I saw him. When it was done I wiped away tears pricking my eyes. I read the fresh headstone that said: "Sam Winchester, May 2nd, 1943 - June 11th, 1957"

No one talked to me at the reception. I sat on a folding chair by the side wall, alone, until Gabriel sat down next to me.

 

"This is all just a mess." He said quietly. "Cassie was gay, Michael was insanely homophobic, Sam lost control of the car- now none of them are in our lives anymore."

 

"You're fucking-A. Add the fact that everyone, including my old man, hates me or pities me." I sighed.

 

"I’m sure your Dad doesn’t hate you.”

 

“You have no idea. He hates me. It should’ve been me that died. I wish it was.” I stared ahead of me, blankly into a crowd of people in black suits and ties or black lace dresses.

 

“Well, it shouldn’t have been anyone-”

 

“You weren’t there. I offered to drive after Benny couldn’t make it, but Sammy just- He was so damn excited. He wanted to drive, and I let him. He was fucking ecstatic. He just skipped on over to the car, the thing that killed him. I just let him hop his way to his death, smiling like he’d gotten the best news of his life. You know what I said to him? The last thing I said to my brother- ‘One race can’t hurt’ I said.” I turned to Gabriel, “It hurts, so much. I told Cas to go to the park, I let Sam race. And then they both got killed!” I threw the paper plate I was holding down on the ground. “It's my fault they’re dead! I wish they never knew me, and then they’d be alive. I wish I never existed in the first place.”

 

We sat quietly for a moment. Gabriel picked up the little hot dogs and fruit wedges and put them on the flimsy plate, then folded the plate in half and set it by the feet of his folding chair.

 

“We all could’ve done something to save them. I could’ve stuck with the hunters, called off the race, or volunteered to drive instead of Benny. I could’ve spoken up to Michael, gotten Luke to lead the socs, Michael’s been so screwed up since Dad left-” He paused, with a look of pain on his face. I saw a world in his eyes. It was a world of pain, with a deadbeat dad and a fucked up brother.

I realized that Gabe probably came home that night, wondering if the house had been broken into, brushed away broken glass, and then the news came that his brother had been killed. Things were bad for everyone. Death has no prejudice, pain has no mercy. Whether you're rich or poor, everybody dies. These things make us human. Greaser or soc, we all had shitty lives.

 

"Sooner or later, everyone in here is gonna be dead and gone, and nobody remembers them, but Cas and Sam and Michael will just be ghost stories to spook your kids into behaving," I muttered soberly.

 

We sat there, in silence again, not knowing what to say next.

 

"I'd better go." Gabriel looked to his mother, who waved him over.

 

I nodded, he walked to her, then I walked over to my dad. We drove home, the only sound was the rumble of the engine. The car was burning hot from sitting in the sun. The leather seats were warm, and they stuck to your skin. I suffered through it noiselessly.

-

I glanced into the kitchen, the counters lined with Tupperware and casserole dishes from families who probably didn't give a shit about us till Sammy died. I went to my room and shut the door. I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking.

There never really are happy endings in life. Some lives hardly have happy middles and beginnings. I know that this story hasn't got a happy end. There isn't some deus ex machina. No divine intervention to bring back Cas and Sam. I won't wake up in a cold sweat, roll over and say 'Cas, honey, I had the strangest dream.' maybe go call up Sam and see how he is, then we'd just move on with our lives, at some 9 to 5 or a blue collar job. Then the credits would roll and the audience would mill around chatting, sweep the popcorn off your seat and leave.

That crap doesn't just happen in life. We don't get a Hollywood ending where you ride off into the sunset. We may be lucky enough to have a Hollywood middle, but eventually, you die, and you leave a hole in someone's heart. Nobody lives happily ever after, because there's no happy way to die.

Just as we're all born, we all die. Life's a bitch that way.

Happiness is humanity's green light. We try to chase after it, every damn day. Sometimes leaving a societal wasteland in our wake. Eventually, we get it, just for a bit. Then something pulls it away, and we're standing outside, staring at it, longing for it, reaching out.

I understood why Gatsby wouldn't give up. Not because he was greedy. Because he was human. We chase after it so that we can let the green light wash over us as long as possible before it inevitably gets pulled away. So go out and find your green light, and you hold on tight to it- before it goes out for good.


End file.
